


two drifters (off to see the world)

by bflatminor



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, dash and lily au but ive never watched dash and lily, happy holigays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27993015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bflatminor/pseuds/bflatminor
Summary: christen press is spending her first christmas alone when she finds an empty notebook in the bookstore she frequents and decides to leave a little note. what could go wrong, right?except when someone writes back.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 11
Kudos: 150
Collections: Preathfics Winter 2020 Collection





	two drifters (off to see the world)

**Author's Note:**

> yes i used to be 23bestfriends **[here's](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969068)** a longer note explaining why i remade & where ive been
> 
> thanks doc for volunteering (asking?) me to do day fifteen of the pf winter oneshots collection & thanks cora for giving me a dash and lily prompt despite the fact that ive never watched dash and lily
> 
> enjoy!

Christen Press loves lists.

She's been organizing her life into lists for as long as she's been able to write. Even before that, actually; for as long as she can remember, everything from her morning routines to her friends' birthdays are tucked into their bullet points, first in her head and then in her treasured notebook full of lists. Sort, categorize, number. Lists, lists, lists.

Christmas lists are her favorite of all. Christmas, in general, is her favorite holiday of all. After all, her birthday is four days after Christmas and she's even named after the holiday—her father calls it the best dad joke he's ever made. And what's not to love about all the presents, especially when you get to make a list?

What _isn't_ to love, however, is the fact that she'll be spending Christmas alone this year. Every other Christmas has been spent with her family in California. For the past two years, she and her older sister Tyler have flown back from college so they can continue their Christmas traditions all together. 

(She has a list of the family traditions, of course. They spend each day of the week leading up to Christmas doing a different one:

  1. _Search for the perfect Christmas tree_
  2. _Decorate the house_
  3. _Write Christmas lists_
  4. _Bake mom's famous cookies_
  5. _Build gingerbread houses_
  6. _Have a Christmas movie marathon_
  7. _Christmas Eve!_



So she really loves Christmas. Sue her.)

But this year, her little sister Channing is in college too, and apparently her newly empty-nested parents think it's a fantastic idea to break their yearly traditions.

"You're going _where?_ " Christen asks incredulously during her weekly video call with her parents.

"We're taking a cruise through the Mediterranean!" her mom exclaims. "Isn't that exciting?"

What Christen wants to say is _no, of course not,_ but instead she settles for, "What about our Christmas traditions?"

Her dad looks a little bit confused. "Honey, we just thought it would be easier, since you girls won't have to fly back over break. And your mom and I are looking forward to our first Christmas vacation in twenty years. It'll be good for you, too. You should get out and meet some new people."

Well. There's a lot to unpack there. She's not sure she wants to even open the suitcase.

The other thing: she shares a condo with three of her friends. They're all flying back for a few days around Christmastime... and she'll really be spending Christmas alone.

So instead, Christen's list of things to do this Christmas looks something like:

  1. _Study at the bookstore_
  2. _???_



She's sitting in the living room of the condo, drafting her _Things To Do This Christmas_ list, when her roommate and best friend Ali walks in.

"Listing again, Pressy?" Ali teases, humming some obscure Christmas song under her breath.

"Don't have anything else to do," Christen replies as she rifles through the pages of her notebook. "Gonna be spending a lot of time at the bookstore."

Ali pauses and peers over Christen's shoulder at the very short list. "C'mon, girl, that can't possibly be _everything_ you're planning on doing for two weeks? Not even a party or anything? You can't spend your entire break sitting at the Loft." She's talking about the Coffee Loft, a nearby bookstore and a favorite haunt of Christen's.

And, well. She _is_ planning to spend her entire break at the Loft, but when Ali puts it that way, it sounds so... depressing.

"It's not _that_ bad?" Christen tries. Ali's look tells her that _yes, it is in fact that bad_.

Before she can even react, Ali's snatched her pen and notebook away. "Hey!" Christen protests. Ali is already scribbling away.

"There," her best friend announces, pushing the notebook back. The new bullet point reads _"Go on a date with someone before Christmas."_

Christen shakes her head. "Absolutely not."

"Why not? You know what they say about the best way to get over someone. Just get under someone else."

"I don't have anyone to get over!" Christen insists, cheeks flaming. " _Bye,_ Ali."

Ali shrugs. "Nope. Still here. And my point still stands. I'm making sure that you go out with someone before the end of this year. I know you'll be able to find yourself a lucky guy around here." She winks. "Or a lucky girl."

"You're leaving now, Ali."

"Is that a yes?"

" _Goodbye."_

"I'll take that as a yes."

Sometimes Christen honestly wonders why she keeps Ali around.

Then she looks down at her list again. _Go on a date with someone before Christmas_.

_"It'll be good for you, too. You should get out and meet some new people."_

Hm.

Maybe her best friend has a point.

* * *

Christen sleeps in the next day—which, for a morning person like her, is around eight in the morning. She grabs a granola bar from the pantry and hops onto the kitchen counter with her notebook before heading out. _To-Do List (12/15)_ , she writes on a fresh new page.

  1. ~~_Sleep in_~~
  2. ~~_Quick breakfast_~~
  3. _Morning check-in_
  4. _Revisions - Psych essay_
  5. _Email Prof. Ellis_
  6. ~~_Date someone? Ask someone out? Hit on someone?_~~ _Ali's challenge_



She's pondering how to word her last bullet point for the day when one of her other roommates, Crystal, wanders into the kitchen with a yawn.

"Good morning, Miss Awake-At-An-Ungodly-Hour-So-She-Can-Go-To-A-Bookstore," Crystal mumbles as she shuffles over the coffee machine.

"You're awake," Christen points out. She slides down from the counter and tucks her notebook into her backpack.

The coffee machine growls to life. "Not by choice," Crystal grumbles. "You're not the one who has a room next to Ali's. I swear to god, I love that girl and I know she loves Ash, but I don't wanna _hear_ that all damn night."

Christen grimaces and immediately blushes. Apparently Ali's taking her own advice to heart.

"I'm gonna, um, go. Now." She _really_ doesn't want to catch Ash coming out of Ali's room after a night of... god (or Crystal) knows what.

* * *

A warm gust of coffee-scented air catches Christen as she steps into the Loft. Dawn, the woman who owns and runs the bookstore, waves from behind the coffee counter. "Morning, Chrissy!"

Christen smiles and returns the greeting, taking a seat at her usual table and pulling out her laptop and notebook. She's about to start working when a notebook on the shelf near her catches her eye.

It's a black leather-bound notebook, much like her own, but the vertical red stripe running down the front of the notebook is what gets her attention. There's a small circular logo stitched on the cover in the same shade of red; white letters reading _Portland Thorns_ curve around the top and bottom of the logo.

Portland?

It's obviously not a notebook from the Loft—why would a bookstore in North Carolina sell notebooks from Portland?

Does that mean someone else left it here?

Christen will think back to this moment a thousand times in the two weeks that follow, but she's never really sure what possesses her to reach for the notebook and crack it open. It's basically empty, except for a few pages at the beginning filled with a messy scrawl: notes about recipes and assignments and things she can't decipher.

She's even less sure why she flips to the next blank page and pens a quick _"_ _Happy holidays from me :)"._

In hindsight, maybe Ali's really getting to her. Maybe she's feeling the Hallmark spirit: cheesy, shiny, overly-edited holiday rom-coms that start with serendipitous notes scribbled in left-behind notebooks. 

Anyways. She tucks the notebook back onto the shelf and tells herself that she's not really expecting anything. The notebook barely crosses her mind again until lunch.

* * *

The notebook is moved from its original position after Christen returns from lunch at the cafe across the street. She wonders if some customer mistook it for an item on sale and haphazardly replaced it after realizing.

A very likely explanation, but somehow, her curiosity gets the better of her and she opens the notebook.

To say she's more than a little surprised would be an understatement. There's a response, in the same messy scrawl from the first few pages.

_happy holidays to you too :)_

Below that, the stranger's left the beginning of another list.

  1. _toby (me)_
  2. _(you)_



Christen grins. She's never heard of anyone named Toby before (besides the little poodle that her neighbors used to own) but whoever Toby is, he seems to have a good sense of humor and a fondness for lists. Both of which she appreciates. She scribbles her nickname in the blank space and adds another item to the list.

  1. _toby (me)_
  2. _Chris_ _(you)_
  3. _What's your favorite holiday, Toby?_



Hm. This seems like it'll be fun.

* * *

Christen is almost embarrassingly thrilled to have gotten a response from Toby when she arrives at the Loft the next morning, and she writes out a response before she even opens her backpack.

  1. _toby (me)_
  2. _Chris_ _(you)_
  3. _What's your favorite holiday, Toby? christmas, duh _
  4. _hi, chris :) what's yours, and what's your favorite coffee drink? Christmas, of course! And I don't drink coffee... _
  5. _If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?_



She hopes that Toby will stop by the Loft at the same time as yesterday. On one hand, she's curious to see who this charismatic stranger is. On the other hand, the air of mystery about him only makes her more excited. 

By the time she's back, there's a response waiting for her.

  1. _toby (me)_
  2. _Chris_ _(you)_
  3. _What's your favorite holiday, Toby? christmas, duh _
  4. _hi, chris :) what's yours, and what's your favorite coffee drink? Christmas, of course! And I don't drink coffee... _
  5. _If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be? portland probably. my favorite soccer team is the thorns  _
  6. _best christmas movie go go go_



_(and seriously??? who doesn't drink coffee? are you a morning person, you heathen?)_

She grins at the last comment. A quick Google search shows her that the Portland Thorns are, indeed, a soccer team from Portland, Oregon. Their logo matches the one on the front of Toby's notebook, Christen realizes. And—they're a women's soccer team. _Wow,_ she thinks to herself. A guy's favorite soccer team being a women's team?

She likes Toby already.

Quickly, she writes _"Home Alone! It's a classic"_ in response to Toby's question, then adds, _"And as a matter of fact, I am_ _a morning person, yes."_

For some reason, Christen doesn't stop smiling for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

She spends the rest of that week talking to Toby through the notebook. They've built a routine—each of them leaves questions for the other to answer: Christen every morning and after lunch, Toby during lunch and every night. By now, their list has stretched to the middle of the next page, filled with more and more banter in between each list item. She learns that Toby loves beanies and soccer and the color orange, but that he hates oranges, the fruit. In turn, she tells him how she's named after Christmas.

That Friday, Toby leaves a question that surprises her.

_hey this might be weird, so feel free to ignore or never talk to me again lol. but you're cool as fuck chris so uh... could i get your number?_

Toby's own phone number is printed below the most recent question. Christen feels a weird sort of flutter in her stomach, and it's not even a bad feeling. She's just... confused? Overwhelmed? She never responds to sleazy come-ons when she goes out with her friends, and dating apps are even worse. But this? Asking for her number through a _notebook?_ Why is Toby's shyness uncharacteristically endearing?

Ali's challenge comes rushing back to her. _Go on a date with someone before Christmas_.

Before she can lose her nerve, Christen grabs her pen and writes down her phone number, then enters Toby's number into her phone. She hesitates for a second before adding an orange heart to the end of Toby's contact.

This doesn't have to mean anything... right?

* * *

_[Toby 🧡 12:36pm] hey is this chris_

_[You 12:36pm] Hey! Yeah, this is Chris, are you Toby?_

_[Toby 🧡 12:37pm] yep! glad to see u didnt fake me out there lol_

_[You 12:37pm] I would never! How dare you._

_[Toby 🧡 12:37pm] hey, u never know_

_[Toby 🧡 12:37pm] anyways this is the first time we've actually talked to each other nice to meet u_

_[You 12:38pm] Nice to meet you too lol._

_[You 12:38pm] So tell me, o mysterious Toby, what do you look like?_

Christen cringes at her wording immediately after she sends it (what the hell is "o mysterious Toby"?), but Toby's quick to reply.

_[Toby 🧡 12:38pm] getting into the personal questions already, damn_

_[Toby 🧡 12:38pm] i have brown hair & brown eyes though_

_[You 12:39pm] Toby literally everyone has brown hair and brown eyes I swear to god._

_[Toby 🧡 12:39pm] do u?_

_[You 12:39pm] Well no_

_[Toby 🧡 12:39pm] see! what do YOU look like then_

_[You 12:39pm] I have dark hair. It's curly. And green eyes_

_[Toby 🧡 12:40pm] hot ;)_

Christen flushes and sets her phone down.

Is it hot in here?

_[Toby 🧡 12:41pm] ...sorry, too much?_

_[You 12:41pm] No lol just caught me off guard. Not bad though ;)_

She texts with Toby for so long that she stays at the cafe for almost an hour longer than usual. She should be frustrated for falling out of her carefully-planned habits, for breaking her meticulous routine, but instead, she goes back to the Loft with an enormous smile on her face.

Maybe Ali's challenge is easier than she'd expected.

* * *

"Who are you texting?" Becky, her third roommate, asks as she slides onto the couch. Christen jerks abruptly and almost pitches her phone out the window.

"No one," she tries lamely. Becky raises a knowing eyebrow.

"Doesn't sound like _no one_ , Press."

"Who's no one?" Ali interjects, strolling in, and dear Lord in heaven, please make her wonderful but very inconvenient roommates go away. Like, now.

"No one," Christen repeats.

Ali ignores her and smirks. "What's his name, Pressy?"

"How did you kn—I mean, how are you so sure about that? There's no one. I told you."

"So no progress on my challenge yet?"

Christen sighs heavily and sets her phone on the coffee table. "Okay. Fine. His name is Toby."

Ali screams so loud that Crystal makes her way into the living room. "I fuckin' knew it! I knew it. Where'd y'all meet? What's he look like? Pictures. I want pictures."

"That's... kind of a long story, actually." She explains to her friends how she found the notebook, not expecting anyone to reply until Toby did, and how they have each other's numbers and how they've been talking for a week now and how he's really, really great. Ali screams again. Crystal cheers. Christen feels another flutter in her chest.

Becky smiles, too, but she looks concerned. "Look, Chris, I think he sounds wonderful and I'm thrilled for you, but... be careful, okay? You've never seen him thus far. Just make sure you're safe."

"I'll be safe," she promises. Becky's words ring in her head, though. 

_You've never seen him thus far._

* * *

_[You 2:45pm] Can I see a picture of you?_

_[Toby 🧡 2:50pm] um... what lol_

_[You 2:52pm] So I can prove that you're real_

_[Toby 🧡 2:53pm] what, my immaculate humor and top-notch eloquence didn't convince you? you think i'm a bot?_

_[You 2:55pm] Nooo Toby! My friends have just been asking about you_

_[Toby 🧡 2:56pm] so your friends know about me ;)_

_[Toby 🧡 2:56pm] but actually, i was about to ask you something similar. it's been great talking to you but i'd love to see you in person yknow?_

_[You 2:57] Wait, actually?_

_[Toby 🧡 3:00pm] yes actually_

_[Toby 🧡 3:00pm] 4pm friday at the loft? right by our notebook_

_[You 3:01pm] Sounds good!_

_[Toby 🧡 3:06pm] promise ur not a serial killer lol_

_[You 3:07pm] I could ask you the same thing_

_[Toby 🧡 3:07pm] i promise <3_

* * *

It's Friday.

It's Christmas Day.

Christen's been bouncing on the balls of her feet for the entire week, ever since she and Toby agreed to meet up. Ali, Crystal, and Becky have all already flown back home. She's spending Christmas alone.

On one hand, she's unreasonably excited to finally meet Toby in person—finally, she thinks, as if they haven't known each other a measly two weeks. It feels like so much longer, though. Every time she talks to him, she feels herself smiling and her heart fluttering. Toby's just so... fascinating. Funny, charming, sweet.

But on the other hand, Becky might be right. What if he's a serial killer? Granted, there's not many serial killers in North Carolina (that she knows of, at least), but he could also be a douche. Or a business major.

(Oh god. What if he's a business major?)

Christen pushes thoughts of crisply ironed suits and White Claws out of her mind. She takes a deep breath and inspects herself in the mirror, running down her mental checklist.

  1. _Sweater — check._
  2. _Skinny jeans — check._
  3. _Booties — check._
  4. _Hat — check._
  5. _Trench coat —check._
  6. _Purse — check._
  7. _Pepper spray just in case he really is a serial killer, or a douche, or a business major, even though we're meeting at the Loft on Christmas Day — check._



Another deep breath. The clock reads 3:45. She steps outside and—shit.

What looked like a light drizzle from inside the condo turns out to be very cold, slushy rain. Christen cringes as she half-jogs, half-slides to the Loft. _F_ _uck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Of all days for this to happen!_

She practically collapses through the door of the Loft, purse dangling from one hand. She's still about ten minutes early, and she decides to head to her usual spot to wait for Toby to arrive.

Wait.

_Wait._

_Fuck!_

There's a woman.

Standing at the shelf where _the notebook is_ , with a small, black, red-striped, leather-bound object open and a pen in her hand.

Christen feels an icy tendril of dread slither down her spine. No. This woman can't be reading _her and Toby's_ notebook! She tosses her purse down on a table and makes a beeline for the woman.

"Ma'am, excuse me, I'm so sorry to interrupt, but you can't read that notebook because it's—"

The woman turns, and...

Oh.

She's tan, with an orange beanie plopped on her artfully tousled brown hair, warm brown eyes, and a jawline that looks like it could cut diamond. In the moment between her words, Christen promptly forgets how to speak, and then realizes how fucking _absurd_ she must look right now: still dripping rain onto the floor of the Loft as she lunges towards this poor stranger, ranting about the notebook in her hands.

"...because it's mine," she finishes, just as the stranger says, "Oh, no, this notebook is mine."

Huh?

But... but it's Toby's notebook.

Unless this woman... is Toby?

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Dear god.

"I'm Chris," she blurts out, and she watches as the woman—Toby—widens her eyes in realization. "You're, um. Not a guy?"

She flushes immediately. "I mean, you just look really different than what I was expecting." _Fuck._

But Toby, or whatever her name is, doesn't seem fazed. Instead, she grins. "Nope, not a guy. Do you want me to be?"

She doesn't know what to say to that.

"I'm Tobin," Toby—Tobin—says, reaching out a hand, and it's all Christen can do to smile and link their hands together. Tobin's hand is soft and warm.

"I'm... Christen," she replies, still dizzy.

"Ah. Looks like we both used nicknames, huh?"

"Look, Toby—Tobin. I'm gonna be honest, you're really not what I was expecting, and I think you could say the same. I'm just... really, I mean no offense. But what do we do? Now?"

Tobin shrugs. It's infuriatingly pretty.

"I mean. We could leave and forget that this ever happened." Tobin steps closer. "Or."

"Or?" Christen asks, softly, breathlessly.

When did her voice get so hoarse all of a sudden?

"Or..." Tobin links their hands again, "We could keep going. Keep doing this."

"Keep doing this?"

"Yeah."

"Doing what?"

Tobin grins and steps so close that they're touching. Christen is hyperaware of how warm Tobin is.

"Doing this."

Tobin kisses her.

She doesn't know how to react, mostly because she's never kissed a girl before. She knows Tobin can feel it because she breaks away after a few seconds, frowning. "I... I'm sorry. I should've asked, but I'll go, I'm sorry about that—"

Christen grabs her by the other wrist and kisses her again.

When they finally break apart, she grins into Tobin, still pressed together.

"I'd like to keep doing this," she mumbles.

Tobin breaks into the prettiest smile Christen's ever seen. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I'd like to keep doing this too," Tobin replies.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Christen Press does not, in fact, spend Christmas alone.

(And there's only one thing on her Christmas list this year.

  1. _~~Toby~~ Tobin <3_ )



* * *

_FIN._

**Author's Note:**

> for legal purposes we're gonna ignore a) the pandemic and b) the fact that they only knew each other for like. four days through a notebook before exchanging numbers & u-hauling. god works fast but gays work faster
> 
> as always, thanks to the homies & drop any thoughts you have in the comments! happy holigays, yall. im glad to be back <3


End file.
